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Copyright N° . 1 512*15 . 

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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



































"The point where the huddling 
willows sleep.” 





Vagrant Verses 

AND 

Random Rhymes 



SELECTED AND ILLUSTRATED BY 

KATE KEITH VAN DUZEE 



CONTENTS 


SEASONS 

On the Mississippi.13 

Autumn.17 

Song of the Autumn Leaves.18 

Thanksgiving Day .20 

Yule-Tide.22 

Christmas Song.23 

The Christmas Problem .25 

Easter . .'.26 

All the Year ’Round. 27 

PERSONAL POEMS 

A Memory.31 

A Valentine .32 

To C.33 

To Elsa.34 

Steamer Letters to K. K. V.35 

To Mother.39 

Remembrance.40 

With a Photograph.41 

A Birthday.42 

GENERAL POEMS 

Our Flag .45 

Response to a Toast ..46 

Two Loves.49 

De Profundis.51 

To Music .52 

Inspiration.53 

Cheer Up .54 

Recipe for a Journal .56 

Lines for an Autograph Album.57 

Contentment.57 

Introduction to a Cook Book .58 

Romance .59 

Christmas Carol. 60 

Childs’ Christmas Carol .61 

Christmas Carol—Processional.62 

L’Envoi.63 





































Seasons 






iiii in 


ON THE MISSISSIPPI^ 




IS JUNE, and the journeying 
hours of night 

Speed on to the unborn day; 
And borne along on their pinions 
of flight 

The world in dreams drifts away. 

The friendly moon, her course half 
run, 

On the slumbering earth looks down; 
And the vagrant breeze, through tree- 
tops spun, 

Sighs away in the distance blown. 

Away in the south, like some mam¬ 
moth beast 

Awaiting in silence his prey, 

The big hill patiently faces the east, 
To seize the first morning ray. 


Below the hill, in valley and plain, 
The wheat-fields peacefully rest, 
Each guarding its treasure of golden 
grain, 

Held fast in its billowing breast. 











O’er pond and slough and flowing 
stream, 

The moon-beams quiver and dance, 

And the silent trees as they nod and 
dream, 

Stand guard in bewildering trance. 

Along the shore, where the shadows 
lie deep, 

From the gloom of the forest and 
brush, 

From the point where the huddling 
willows sleep, 

There comes a whispering hush. 

For sounds of the night are afloat in 
the air, 

They come from near and from far, 

From the island gloom, from the hill¬ 
tops bare, 

From the sands of the glistening bar. 

No warbling song of the sun-shine 
bird 

Gives music to charm the night; 

’Tis Nature’s harshest tones are heard 

When the sun is out of sight. 















tireless call of the whip-poor-will, 

The hoot of the wide-awake owl, 

The frogs, in treble, high and shrill, 

The cry of the water-fowl, 

The buzz and hum of the insect brood, 

The katy-did’s saucy cry, 

The chirp of the cricket in cheerful 
mood, 

The noise of the harvest-fly. 

Unseen and unheard are the mystical 
words 

Of the song which the universe 
sings; 

The human ear may not know the 
chords 

Nor the the harmonies it brings. 

The Lyre in the zenith gives forth the 
tone, 

The stars, in choral array, 

And all the worlds of the heavenly 
zone 

Their homage to Nature pay. 



15 


















Away in the cities, in haunts of those 

Who live in the glare always, 
Where a tempest of noise leaves no 
repose, 

And the nights seem to echo the 
days, 

What can they know, who know no 
calm, 

With lives all out of tune,— 

What can they know of the restful 
balm 

Of a summer night in June? 

A summer night, when moon-beams 
faH 

On island, river and bar, 

And the circling hills enclose them all 

And shut out the city afar. 











AUTUMN 


CEPTEMBER frosts have touched 
^ the leaves, 

September mists will soon appear, 
And ripened fruit and yellow sheaves 
Confirm the hope that Autumn’s 
here. 


With tardy steps, the rising sun, 

Each day, comes later than the last, 
And, long before his work is done, 
Beyond the Western hills has 
passed. 

But still his mid-day rays suffice 
To cheer us, warm us, and delay 
Those coming days of snow and ice, 
Those winter days so cold and gray. 


So, mellowed by the rays of love, 

The Autumn of our life descends, 
And ’midst this sunshine from above, 
The warmth of happy faces blends. 

In days of danger, anxious night. 
Through trials past or yet to come, 
’Tis well, if still there shines the light, 
The glory of a happy home. 


17 





OF THE AUTUMN 
LEAVES 


^(\)ME, dance with us, 

As we hop, skip, and flutter.” 
The Autumn leaves say 

With their dry little mutter. 
“Our tune shall be. 

What the wild breezes whistle; 
Our step shall be light, 

As the tuft on the thistle. 

And all the day 

Down the long streets we hurry, 
Or over the fields 

Like the wild witches, skurry; 

Do you not see. 

How delightfully jolly 
Our merry life is, 

Full of laughter and folly? 

Oak leaves and elm, 

Like bits of brown leather. 

Go dancing about 

With bright maples, together; 
Here is no caste, 

A democracy truly, 

Like boys out of school, 

Full of life and unruly. 


18 















Cold blows the wind, 

All too soon we’ll be hidden 
’Neath blankets of snow; 

fou must come when you’re bidden 
And dance with us. 

As we hop, skip and chatter. 

Or down from the trees 

In gay multitudes scatter.” 




















’'JTS pleasant, when you feel in debt, 
’Tho you be saint or sinner, 

To have your obligations met, 

By eating a big dinner. 

If everything has come your way 
’Tis easy to be grateful, 

When all you have to do, to pay, 

Is measured by the plateful. 

Perhaps ’twould be a harder task 
If all for which we’ve striven. 

And all the things for which we ask 
Were not so freely given. 

The man who’s never had enough 
In spite of many a blessipg, 

Perhaps will find his turkey tough 
And grumble o’er the dressing. 

While he whom fortune has passed by. 
Who doubts that life’s worth living, 
Will, smiling, eat his pumpkin pie 
And share in our Thanksgiving. 



















G 


MmL 


This life at best is rather scant. 

And full of froth and bubbles; 
We can’t have everything we want, 
So let’s forget our troubles; 


Let s rid our minds of every care, 
Be happy every minute, 

And thank the Lord the world’s so 
fair, 

And we are really in it. 



















HO! ladies all and gentlemen! 

Have ye forgot the day 
When Christ, revealed to mortal ken, 
In humble cradle lay? 

No mistletoe, nor holly green, 

Was there to grace His birth; 

No sugared cakes, nor candies seen, 
When first He came to earth. 

No merry laughter, shout of joy 
Awoke that Christmas morn; 



No childish gifts of book or toy 

Were His, when Christ was born. 

(L 


No gladsome bells, nor organ tone, 

No choir with carols bright; 

A Mother’s lullaby alone 

Gave music to that night. 

r 


Ho! ladies all and gentlemen! 

What means this day to you? 

That He had come, they knew not 
then; 

Have ye forgotten, too? 

If 

Lg 

OEy 


22 



- 

























^THEREVER Christ is dwelling 
Throughout this busy earth, 

His followers are telling 
The story of His birth. 

And all the care and fretting 
Of life is set aside, 

One day, at least, forgetting 
The endless business tide. 

We hear the children’s voices 
In every happy home. 

As each dear heart rejoices 
That Christmas-day has come. 

And even amidst sorrow, 

The heart forgets its pain; 

The grief is for the morrow, 

When Christmas comes again. 

To banish gloom and sadness, 

The Christ-child comes each year, 

And offers joy and gladness 
To people far and near. 


CHRISTMAS SONG 














With men of ease and leisure, 
With men by care oppressed, 
’Midst suffering and pleasure, 
He sits a welcome guest. 

0 ye, who doubt His mission, 
And trust not in His love, 

Nor heed His admonition, 

His promise from above, 

Does not the Christmas season, 
The joy of Christmas day, 
Convince your inmost reason, 
And drive your doubts away? 

Amidst the rush and hurry, 

The bitterness and strife, 

The constant toil and worry 
In every human life. 

The heavy load seems lighter. 
The worry drifts away. 

And all the world seems brighter 
Because of Christmas day. 


24 


" The friendly moon, her course half run, 
On the slumbering earth looks down;” 







THE CHRISTMAS PROBLEM 


IT ’S clear to me that Santa Claus 
Has never had a wife; 

With all his tricks, 

A pretty fix, 

He’d find a married life. 

For when the Christmas time came 
’round 

With all its Christmas joys, 
Instead of dolls 
And fol-de-rols 
For little girls and boys, 

His mind must conjure up some gift 
To please his darling spouse; 
What shall it be, 

O deary me, 

A mountain or a house? 

And when his vain and fruitless 
dreams 

Had chopped his brain to hash, 
He’d heave a sigh, 

The same as I, 

And give his wife some cash. 


25 






EASTER 


"WHEN Winter yields at last to 
Spring, 

And rain-drops wake the frozen 
earth; 

When birds fly north on sun-lit wing, 
And flowers bloom in joyous birth; 

When soil of past is washed away, 

And all the world seems fresh and 
clean; 

When, with the rising sun, each day 
Seems fairer than the past has been; 


When tear-dimmed eyes with sorrow 
spent 

See visions of a blessed peace; 

And sin-seared souls, now penitent, 
Reach out for pardon and release; 


’Tis time of Easter,—time for wings 
To lift the soul to paradise; 

’Tis resurrection of all things, 

Of life and love and sacrifice. 














^THEN, along some rippling brook, 
You, my lady, 

Sought with me a sheltered nook, 
Cool and shady, 

Soft and white, your fleecy gown, 
Clouds resembling, 

While your goddess smile or frown 
Set me trembling. 

Oh, my heart was in a whirl, 
Brimming over; 

Then you were my summer girl, 

I, your lover. 

When again I met you, dear, 

In September, 

Hoping, between love and fear, 
You’d remember. 

Not a word to end my doubts 
Would you utter; 

While my heart was inside out, 

All a-flutter. 


27 


















Once again ’twas all a whirl, 

So unruly, 

Were you then my autumn girl— 
Were you truly? 

When the first white snow-flakes fell 
Softly, coldly, 

And I tried my love to tell. 

Speaking boldly 

There before the bright fireside. 
Warm and cozy, 

While your face you tried to hide. 
Blushing rosy, 

Proud was I as any earl 
Beyond measure, 

For you were my winter girl, 

My heart’s treasure. 

Now we know love can endure 
Any weather. 

Seasons count not when we’re sure 
We’re together. 












Personal Poems 
































J 


- 
























A MEMORY 



F we could be together 

Just for a little while, my dear, 
Down where the creek runs cool 
and clear 

Beneath the old bridge—you know 
where— 

And everything could still be there, 
The church, the store, the mill, and 
all 

The scenes which mem’rycan recall, 
It would not matter whether 

The years had stayed or fled apace, 
If only I could see your face, 

And we could be together. 


31 

















A VALENTINE 



J CARE not how she wears her hair. 
In ringlets or in tresses, 

’Tis not the jewels she doth wear, 

Nor fashion of her dresses. 

What matter if her step be light 
As fairy, in the dances, 

Or that her eyes so wondrous bright, 
Veil mischief in their glances. 

If only I can win her heart, 

I’ll seek no other treasure. 

Each charming grace may do its part, 
But love shall be the measure. 












Ah, I see he’s caught you napping, 
Softly at your heart’s door tapping; 
Safe you thought yourself no doubt. 
But the sly one found you out, 

And while you in dreamland lay, 
Came, and stole your heart away. 



33 















TO ELSA 



If I may not touch her hand, 
If I may not hear 
The voice of my dear, 

And she may not understand; 


Though I know we are apart, 

Yet my dream is true, 

And I’m sure it is you, 

For I’m thinking of you, sweetheart. 


w 


34 














«c 


STEAMER LETTER TO 
K. K. Y. 


One To Be Read Each Day 

1 



HO! it’s up with the anchor, 
Farewell to the shore, 
The breeze is a spanker, 

The ocean’s before; 

Our steamer is peerless 
In breasting the wave, 

Our captain is fearless, 

His crew strong and brave. 


2 

We rock and roll on the restless deep, 
Heave Ho! — Heave Ho! 

It’s pleasant to lie in your bunk and 
sleep. 

Heave Ho! Heave Ho! 

But pleasanter far, if you had your 
wish, 

Oh Heave! — Oh Heave! 

To once get out of this kettle of fish, 
Oh Heave! — Oh Heave! 


35 






Oh the endless level of shimmering 
sea 

And the limitless space above, 

And the far-away thoughts that come 
to me, 

Of home and the ones I love; 

But the sun shines down on the twink 
ling wave, 

Or the moon rolls above like a 
ball; 

And sun, moon, and sea, all say “Be 
brave. 

For God is over us all.” 

4 

Although the sea is very wet. 

And could not well be wetter. 

Although some men are known to bet 
When they should have known 
better, 

And though I know you love to lie 
Abed,—you are no liar; 

ril bet if all the sea ran dry. 

You’d say this verse was drier. 




36 















Its dolphins and mermaids, and ice¬ 
bergs and whales, 

And its deep coral caverns below; 
Its old sailors’ yarns, and young tour¬ 
ists’ tales, 

From morning ’til night, as you go. 
But when in the course of events you 
return. 

You’ll give them some quiet re¬ 
bukes, 

And tell of adventures surprising to 
learn, 

Of brigands, and dragons, and 
dukes. 


6 


Now what shall it be today for a 
change; 

A nap, a young man, or a book. 

I’m tired of ship life, and limited 
range; 

I’m tired of this far-away look. 

If only with Bess, on our “bikes” we 
could spin 

Through country lanes shady and 
cool, 


37 










Past mansion and church-yard, and 
farm-house and inn, 

Like children just let out of school; 

No land is in sight, it is useless to pine. 
Besides, I forgot, I declare, 

I promised to meet Mr. Mountain at 
nine, 

And walk,—just to get the fresh 
air. 

7 

Away, away in the distant blue, 

The land creeps slowly into our view, 
And murmur of voices is in the air, 
And breath of verdure is every¬ 
where. 

A welcome awaits us from unknown 
hands, 

Adventure awaits us in unknown 
lands, 

And unseen fingers (O mystery) 

Are weaving the threads of our 
destiny. 

May He whose hand is nature’s 
decree 

Direct those lines of our destiny; 
Direct aright those unseen hands, 
That wait to guide us in unknown 
lands. 



To me that village used to seem 
The world—it was the world to me, 
Nor was it strange that I should deem. 
Within my universe of dream. 

Thyself, a goddess, great, supreme, 
For thou wert all the world to me. 




And though ’tis twenty years and 
more, 

The memory of those boyhood days 
Comes knocking at Affection’s door, 
And finds within, the love of yore, 

As fond, as tender, as before, 

As dear as in those boyhood days. 





























General Poems 



) 












General Poems 


4 


« 



I 







OUR FLAG 

For Flag Day 



RED as the blood by heroes shed, 

Red as the blaze of battle dread, 
Red as the sun in its western bed, 

Is the fire of liberty. 

White with the sheen of heaven-born 

White as the dove in its upward flight, 
White, and as pure as truth and right. 
Is the love of liberty. 

Blue as the steel of the weapon true, 
Blue as the sky in its summer hue, 
Blue as the water’s deepest blue, 

Is the faith of liberty. 

Red for the fire to keep us pure, 

White for the love that shall hold us 
true, 

Blue for the faith that makes us sure, 
’Tis the emblem of Freedom—the 
Red, White and Blue. 













RESPONSE TO A TOAST 




JN the days of old Hellas 
The poets all tell us, 

(’Tis strange how such fancies get 
into one’s brain) 

The young Grecian hero 
Kept his heart above zero 

By ogling the girls, ’though he 
knew ’twas in vain. 

I sometimes have wondered, 

(Perhaps I have plundered 
This idea from someone more 
brilliant than I) 

What he found to attract him 
When the fever attacked him, 

The young lady’s hair or the glance 
of her eye. 

Was’t the touch of her finger 
That seemed just to linger 

A moment o’erlong in his hand, 
shyly pressed, 

Set his heart and brain reeling: 

You’ve all had that feeling— 

That thrill more than once, if the 
truth were confessed. 











He could not discover, 

This young Grecian lover, 
Attractions enough in the cut of her 
gown, 

For in spite of her shaping, 

And looping and draping. 

The same style was worn by each 
girl in the town. 

When a man has a passion 
To follow the fashion, 

And raves over statues and paint¬ 
ings antique, 

Don’t mind his erratic 
Wild raptures emphatic. 

About classic robes and old 
costumes unique. 


Just wait ’til he faces 
The ribbons and laces 

That deck out the charming young 
girl of today, 

While neatest of dresses 
Her figure caresses,— 

Just ask him which style he prefers, 
by the way. 







He’ll sooner or later, 

Unless he’s a traitor, 

Confess she’s the fairest, the 
sweetest, the best; 

He’ll long to possess her, 

And love her, God bless her, 

And give not a thought to the way 
she is dressed. 

Now, if you are willing, 

Your glasses first filling, 

To drink to the health of the girl 
you love most, 

Just rise in your places, 

Display your best graces, 

And join in this happy, this time- 
honored toast. 

* * * 

To woman, who, inspired by love 
An angel’s place might fill; 

To love, be loved, and yet to love, 
And, ’though unloved,—love still. 
















"From the island gloom, from the hilltops bare. 
From the sands of the glistening bar.” 












* 


. 

. 





* 

- 





























TWO LOVES 


v_ 


j\ 


i 


(^APRICIOUS, fickle, wayward, wild, 
Alternate friend, or god, or child; 
His weapon is a shining dart, 

His cognizance, a bleeding heart. 

Now scorched by passion’s burning 
heat, 

Now soothed by fond delusions sweet, 
His victims risk their hopes, their 
lives, 

To reach the lure his skill contrives. 

’Tis sculptors’ boast, and artists’ joy 
To picture forth this dangerous boy, 
His curly head, his smiling face, 

His chubby limbs, his wings of grace; 

And poets feel inspired to lays 
Of wondrous verses in his praise; 

And vie to show each new deceit. 

That makes his victory complete. 


h* a 

J 


Yet all must sometime feel the sting 
Or the caress his touch will bring. 
Caress or sting,—which it shall be? 
He will decide, and only he. 












dtf 


Os 


His image, face, and smile the same; 
He wields no bow, no dart, no lance, 
Two golden links his cognizance. 


The poets seldom sing of him, 

Yet sometimes out of mem’ries dim. 
Some gentle hand will draw a strain 
So sweet, we list and list again, 


And seem to feel that silken bond 
Untouched by passion, tender, fond, 
Pure as the blue of heav’n above, 
Unselfish sister-brother love. 









DE PROFUNDIS 


'J’H Y hand, dear Lord! 

In darkness I am groping. 

I cannot find the way 
Alone. I only pray 

For help, while waiting—hoping 
Give me Thy hand. 

Hold fast, dear Lord! 

My feet are ever straying 
Aside. I am not sure, 

But suffer and endure, 

Looking to Thee and praying 
Thou hold me fast. 

Lead me, dear Lord! 

Have pity on my blindness! 
Along the weary length 
Of days, my feeble strength 
Must fail, unless in kindness 
Thou lead me on. 

Save me, dear Lord! 

From doubt and vain repining. 
Strengthen my faith in Thee 
Until I clearly see 

The Light Eternal shining 
And I am safe. 











lV 



OH ! latest most divine of arts! 

Thy mission here yet unresolved; 
Thy future, still in clouds involved; 

Sweet Music! while thy power imparts 
(Bewitching all our deadened sense) 
Some secret touch, with force 
intense, 

Whose beauty fills our inmost hearts, 
We see our baser nature yield, 

Our better self stands, self-revealed, 

The evil thought or wish departs, 

And lightened by thy mystic ray 
We seem to see the heavenly way. 




dtf 


/5>s 















I wonder what lies there beyond, 

And, wondering, throw the shutters 
wide 

To seek the answer, long denied; 

To beg some distant voice respond, 
And guide. 

Thus seek I, wondering, soul aflame, 
My mind in tumult of desire; 

With blinded vision still aspire 
To learn the source from whence it 
came, 

That fire. 

When weary quest ends in despair, 
Convinced at last I may not win 
That distant radiance, I begin 
To search my heart, and find it there, 
Within. 


53 














There’s many a kind o’ trouble, 

As much as one can bear; 

Sometimes they seem to double 

Up, an’ give you more ’n your share. 


P’rhaps it’s jest a feelin’ 

O’ misery in your heart; 

Somethin’ that’s got no healin’, 
That alius seems to smart. 

Or maybe you are weary, 

An’ wish you’re well an’ strong; 

P’rhaps you’re feelin’ teary, 
Because th’ time seems long. 

Meanwhile your friends an’ nurses, 
An’ doctors hang about, 

An’ spite of all your curses, 

They dope you in an’ out. 















But spite of all they’re tell in’, 
There’s jest one kind o’ cure 

F’r all that life’s compellin’ 

Us to grin an’ to endure. 

A heart that’s alius cheerful, 

Beats medicine an’ pills; 

A spirit never fearful, 

Beats human pains an’ ills. 

A soul that’s never fretful, 

Because things don’t seem right; 

A soul that’s not forgetful 

That shadows come with light. 

No matter how depressin’ 

The thing by which we ’re vexed, 

Each minute keeps us guessin’ 
What’s goin’ to happen next. 

So what’s th’ use o’ whinin’, 

An’ thinkin’ life’s a curse; 

Complainin’ an’ repinin’. 

Jest help t’ make it worse. 












RECIPE FOR A JOURNAL 


JN graceful pose your elbows plant, 
And while with thought you 
wrestle, 

Your dimpled chin with upward slant, 
Soft in your palm should nestle. 

Now’twixt your lips, your pencil place, 
In search of information, 

While eyes gaze upward into space. 

In deepest contemplation. 

But what to write, I cannot say, 

Nor need I to complete it, 

The cook who makes your cake today, 
Ne’er tells you how to eat it. 


7 


■ v \n>/s 




& 7 \ 































INTRODUCTION TO A 
COOK BOOK 


'J'HE gods of Ancient Greece foresaw 
The danger of bad cooks; 

So ate their famed ambrosia raw, 

And trusted not in books. 

In modern Grease,the cook’s supreme, 
And when her victim’s fed, 

Her art decides the kind of dream 
Shall hover o’er his bed. 

She sometimes serves up horrid things 
That fill your breast with pain, 

And oft at night her mixture brings, 
New terrors to your brain. 















ROMANCE 



LET’S sing of days when maids 
were won 

By blow of trenchant steel; 

When warrior’s blood from sire to son 
Was shed for country’s weal. 

When monarch sat on tot’ring throne, 
Nor held his title long; 

When virtue might not stand alone, 
And right was oft-times wrong. 

Of ancient castle, stark and grim, 

Of lords and ladies gay; 

Of sacred abbey, cloister dim, 

Of these let’s sing our lay. 

What though the world be hoar with 
age, 

What better theme will prove 
For poet’s song or storied page 
Than chivalry and love. 


59 

















[RISTMAS CAROL 


'J'HE Christmas bells are pealing. 
Their merry carols rise; 

And down from heaven stealing 
The seraph song replies. 

“Oh, welcome” they are ringing,— 
Those chimes in sweetest tone; 
And “Welcome” they are singing— 
Those seraphs, round the throne. 

Chorus: 

Ring out, ye bells, the story 
Of Christ the Saviour’s birth! 
Ring out the joyful tidings; 

Good Will and Peace on Earth! 


That angel song descending, 
Proclaimed in heavenly strains. 
To Hebrew shepherds tending 
Their flocks upon the plains, 
With loudest hallelujahs, 

Proclaimed a new-born King; 
And loudest hallelujahs, 

The Christmas bells shall ring. 


60 















'J'HIS is Christmas morning, 

This is Christmas morning, 

The sun is up in his best array, 

And he winks and blinks in a know¬ 
ing way, 

Oh, Ho! see here, it is Christmas day! 
It is Christmas, Christmas morning! 


Now the bells are ringing, 

Now the bells are ringing, 

Their gladsome voices seem to say, 
In a merry, merry roundelay, 

Wake up, wake up, it is Christmas 
day. 

It is Christmas, Christmas morning! 

Who can now be sleeping? 

Who can now be sleeping? 

Bestir yourself without delay, 

And welcome in this happy day. 
Come,come,wake up, it is Christmas 
day. 

It is Christmas, Christmas morning! 
















CHRISTMAS CAROL 
—PROCESSIONAL 


'Y^ r ITH cross and banner lifted high, 
Our hearts with love united; 

We honor Him triumphantly, 

To whom our vows are plighted. 

Our joyful songs His praises sing, 

We raise our happy voices; 

Hosanna to the new-born King, 

In Him all earth rejoices. 

All decked in festival array, 

With wreaths and garlands blend- 
ing 

To celebrate this Christmas day, 

Our joyful steps attending. 

Still, loud our glad hosannas ring, 
And shout our happy voices; 

Hosanna to the new-born King, 

In Him all earth rejoices! 

Come join with us in carols sweet, 
Let each his love confessing, 

Lay fairest tribute at His feet, 

And win the Saviour’s blessing; 

And while your offering you bring, 
Uplift your thankful voices; 

Hosanna to the new-born King, 

In Him all earth rejoices! 


62 


L’ ENVOI 


Calmly sailing o’er the sea 
Think of me dear—think of me. 

Rolling ° er the £ en ^ e wave 
Be y° ur musings S a y> not S rave - 


the an ^ r ^ billows 
When roar. 


Be 

If 


. worried, iL . , 
not think 


you re 
sure 
the 


some 


Ship 


sink¬ 


ing 


Keep 

on 

think¬ 

ing. 

Keep 

on 

think¬ 

ing. 


\ 










MAY 1 2 ^23 

















































